Green-Eyed Mistress
by Zighana
Summary: Rhonda laments over Andre's feelings for Michelle. Rhonda-centric


Green-Eyed Mistress

_Rhonda reflects on her husband's infatuation with his music therapist._

_Rhonda Lyon, jealous?_

Don't make her laugh.

But as she watches Andre sit, alone in their spacious apartment, watching Michelle's performance over and over, that silly notion is her truth.

Infidelity isn't an issue in their marriage; they pride themselves on being open and honest with whom they sleep with. As long as Andre and Rhonda share their bed together every night, they are as faithful as they come. Rhonda can sleep at night knowing that no matter how many women Andre sleeps with, he'll always come back to her; no mistress will ever steal him away. She was open, understanding, eager to please and loyal. She should feel confident that no one will stand a chance against her, which she will always win.

Until she met Michelle.

Michelle is Andre's music therapist; she has been involved with him in a relationship that is far from professional.

No, they are not sexually or romantically linked; it's religiously. After she introduced him to the power of God, her husband turned into a church-boy, wanting to devote his life to God and take her with him.

It has earned her suspicion.

She is all too familiar with her friends and co-workers who claim cheaters use religion as an excuse for their indiscretions. Feeling anxious and curious, she finally caves in when her husband asks her to go to church with him. To size up her competition, she tells herself. She saunters in the church, rolling her eyes at the hymns, the candles, the bullshit promises of a better place after death. Religion is for children scared of the boogeyman; the one true thing to worship is money. At least with money, you can see it and use it.

Her eyes flicker to her husband sitting front and center in the pews, listening to his little church mouse sing. It's then she sees Michelle.

She's pretty, Rhonda will give her that. Curves in the right places, deep brown doe-like eyes and plump lips that are begging to be kissed, skin the color of rich cocoa and free from over the top make-up. She's a natural beauty, but that shouldn't be the only reason Andre is so….smitten.

The woman notices Rhonda and her face pulls into a sweet smile.

"Why, hello, Mrs. Lyon. Your husband told me so much about you."

"Good things, I hope." She responds automatically, her artificial smile plastered on her face as they shake hands. Today Michelle wears a conservative white peplum dress she clearly got on sale from some department store, with white pumps that are clearly knock-offs to match. She has on mascara and lip gloss with a slight berry tint; subtlety is her thing. Clutched in her hand is the Bible, decorated with her name sewn in silk and a photo of what appears to be her son. Rhonda gets a good whiff and smells jasmine, vanilla, and sandalwood in the most softest of scents.

Victoria's Secret fragrance.

Not bad.

Michelle, clearly oblivious to the sizing up Rhonda's doing on her, guides her to sit in the pews with her husband.

"He's improving immensely through prayer and music," she begins, her eyes brimming with hope as they witness Andre bows his head, whispering. Clutched in his hands are rosary beads, with an embroidered cross glowing against his skin.

"He's a changed man."

I'm aware, Rhonda thinks.

Andre finishes his prayer, sees his two lovely ladies and smiles.

"I'm so glad you could come, Rhonda." He greets her, his eyes sparkling. Since when did he get that sparkle in his eye?

She smiles a thin smile and sits next to her husband, her hand clutching his. Perhaps they could sneak to the bathroom for a quickie and she won't be so on edge. She bats her eyes, leans in close, guides their hands to his crotch and nuzzles gently.

"Baby," she coos in his ear, "I want you."

He whips his head to face her, his expression unreadable. Before anything could happen Michelle's voice snaps them out of it.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Lyon?"

Andre untangles his hand away from Rhonda like he's been burned and looks away. Confused and insulted, Rhonda masks her feelings with a cool demeanor and she replies, "Yes I'm fine. I was just asking Andre if they have extra Bibles. The one I have seems torn."

With a smile, Michelle says, "We indeed do. If you want, you can follow me and I can go get you a new one."

"That won't be necessary."

Eyes lock onto Andre. He stands erect, eyes hard and cold.

"We were just leaving."

He gets up and leaves, taking Rhonda's hand with him.

They rode together in silence, both unsure of what to say.

Rhonda felt like she's the other woman the way he treated her at the church; the way he looked at Michelle when she interrupted their possible tryst was guilty, like he'd gotten caught cheating on her.

As if Rhonda's the mistress and not the wife and mother of his unborn child.

"Did you fuck her?"

"What?"

Rhonda doesn't repeat herself; she knows he's heard her loud and clear. They sit in the dining room, going over their story regarding the whereabouts of Vernon. Rhonda is now finishing her fifth glass of wine.

"Where did that question come from?"

"The way you look at her says it all."

"I think you had too much to drink."

"I'll tell you when I've had enough to drink. Now answer the damn question."

"I didn't fuck her. I never did."

"I wished you did. Right now I truly wish that was a lie." She pours herself another glass.

"You look at her like you've fallen for her. I've never seen you act so sweet and generous around anyone and you are actually sincere. You love her, don't you?" Tears were clouding her vision but they vanish after she gulps the alcohol.

"You're being paranoid, baby. You know you're the only one I love."

"I'm starting to wonder if that's the truth anymore. You lie so much I could never tell your fact from fiction."

Andre looks hurt but the statement, but fixes his composure.

"I'm trying to be a changed man."

"Because of her. Little Michelle, the black bitch with a heart of gold."

"Don't call her that."

"Why shouldn't I? She stole you away from me and she didn't even have to _spread her legs_!" She throws down her glass.

"What's she giving you that I'm not, Andre? I've been by your side since we were in college. I've done whatever it took to make you happy, no matter how degrading. I have been honest and loyal and I proved to you time and time again that I'll do anything for you! I _killed_ for you, Andre! After everything I did, everything I worked hard for, why are you running off to her?"

"Because she's everything you're not. She's everything I'm not. She's everything I wanted. She didn't leave me behind to rot; she gave me something to believe in, she made me a better person."

"That was supposed to be my job." Rhonda collapses to the floor, tears running down her cheeks.

"Do you love her, Andre?"

Silence permeated the home. When they locked eyes, Andre's answer was loud and clear.

He loves her.

He truly, truly loves her.

He loves her so much he'd choose her over Rhonda in a heartbeat.

"I'll go sleep at Hakeem's tonight. Don't wait up."

She lets him leave. She sits on their couch, half-drunken bottle of wine in her hand and remote control in the other.

On the screen is Michelle's performance all those nights before. She's so elegant, sweet, and innocent. The way he looks at her, it's like Michelle has replaced Rhonda. Rhonda, proud wife of Andre Lyon, is now his mistress. Replaced by an unrequited love that'll never be.

She rewinds the tape, tears streaming down her face as the woman who stole her man performs once more, mocking her with her angelic voice and warm smile.

She hates her.

Truly, truly hates her.

Hates her so much she's green with envy.

And for that, the green-eyed mistress sits in her lonely home, drinking wine and crying over her shattered dreams and destroyed marriage.

**~Fin~**


End file.
